Stille Nacht
by Genesis R
Summary: Ed never has really understood the holidays. But family, now — that's something he's come to understand the value of very much.


Stille Nacht

_by Genesis R_

* * *

><p>December 24, 1921<p>

Ed came stomping into the apartment he shared with Alfons Heiderich. Snow was crusted on his shoulders and boots, and as he shook his head, a thin cascade of it drifted down from his ponytail.

Alfons and Gracia looked up from where they were stabilizing a scrawny six-foot fir tree in a corner of the living room.

"You're home early, Ed," Alfons called cheerily from behind the tree.

"Yeah, something about taking the holidays off," Ed replied from the foyer. He shrugged out of his coat and hung it by the door. "I don't exactly understand what it's all about — What in the world is that for?"

Gracia smiled and extricated herself from the tree's embrace. Ed was standing in the doorway, looking rather like he was afraid the tree would bite him if he came any closer. "It's a Christmas tree, Edward."

"I know _that_." He scowled and with some effort crossed his prosthetic arm over his real one. "What I don't understand is why there's one in _our_ living room."

"Well," Alfons began, "it wouldn't exactly fit in either of the bedrooms —"

"That's not what I meant! Everywhere I've been today, there have been trees and bows and garland and crap. People are out in the streets _singing_. What's the deal with all that, anyway? It's a bit late for a harvest festival."

"It's Christmas," Alfons explained patiently. Sometimes it seemed like Ed was a complete moron when it came to basic knowledge. "It's like a mid-winter's celebration. There's feasting and gift-giving... and caroling, as you already saw. It's based on an old Christian tradition celebrating the birth of Christ."

Ed's eyes flickered with recognition. "Oh, yeah, I know that one. Didn't that religion die out centuries ago?"

"What world are you living in?" Gracia asked. She opened a box of tinsel and began decking the tree, missing the quick look shared between the two boys. They both knew the stories Ed told...

The golden-eyed boy finally came into the room and leaned against the dining table, watching the two at work for several minutes. Finally he uncrossed his arms and scratched his head with his flesh hand.

"So — why a tree?"

Alfons stared at the fir for a long moment, the tinsel forgotten in his hand. "I don't know, Ed."

There was a faint knock at the door downstairs and Gracia straightened up from decorating the lower branches.

"That'll be a customer," she said, hurrying to the door. "I guess I'll leave you boys to finish up. Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, Miss Gracia!" Alfons called after her.

"See ya," Ed added.

Once the woman was gone, the one-time alchemist levelled a hard stare at the younger boy.

"So what if it is 'Christmas'? Why is there a _tree_ in our _house_?"

Alfons sighed. "It's just a celebration, Ed. It's tradition. Everyone does it. My family always had a tree when I was growing up, and I'm not going to forsake that now."

"Hm." Ed looked down at the puddle of water slowly spreading around his boots as the last of the snow melted.

Alfons had noticed that every time he mentioned his childhood — or questioned Ed about his — the older boy would become quiet and moody and wouldn't look him in the eye. If Ed's stories were to be believed, Alfons must remind him painfully of his younger brother Al. But then, Ed's stories couldn't possibly be true. He was just being a wet blanket.

"Christmas is also about family," Alfons added before it really registered what he was saying. "It's when people exchange gifts with those they care about."

"How silly." Ed turned away, but Alfons heard his muttered words.

"It's silly to do things for your family? Your friends?"

"I didn't say that. It's silly to put so much stock in material things. No one needs _stuff_. Now family, though... There are some things that can't be priced. Although —" He tightened his right fist until gears clanked in protest. "Never mind. Have your fun, Heiderich. I'll pass on this holiday." He stepped toward his bedroom door.

"It's Al."

"Huh?"

"You don't have to be so formal. Call me Al. Or Alfons."

Ed's cynical half-smile disappeared and Alfons regretted saying anything.

"Okay," the older boy finally said, more to himself than his house-mate. "Okay. Merry Christmas, Alfons."

"Merry Christmas, Edward."

The bedroom door closed quietly, leaving a slightly bewildered Alfons alone with the partially-decorated fir tree. This wasn't the first time Ed's mood had drastically reversed in the space of a few minutes, but it still confused Alfons every time it happened. If the stories of Amestris, of alchemy over science, were true, a lot would be explained. But they weren't, so it wasn't.

Alfons just couldn't help but wonder what had happened to Ed that had been so traumatic that he'd felt it necessary to construct an imaginary life around himself.

In his room, Edward crossed to his bed and slumped down. Hohenheim's prosthetics were lighter than automail, creating less strain on his body, but bad weather always made his old wounds ache. Ed wondered if it was fruitless, this pain. Was it the price for saving his brother's life? For making him whole again? Or was the pain mindless, pointless, merely the aching of lost limbs that had been thrown away for no reason? Ed would have given his remaining arm and leg to know the answer to that question.

There was a quick knock at the door.

"Edward?"

"Yes, Hei- Alfons?" Ed winced as he said the name. The boy out there merely _looked_ like his brother — but calling him by Al's name, that was only going to make this hell worse.

"Gracia wants to know if you or I want any flowers or garlands." Alfons' voice held traces of both amusement and annoyance. "I think she wants to know if we're going to be inviting anyone over tomorrow."

"Of course not," Ed answered, leaning back on the mattress and closing his eyes. "It's not like I know anyone here. You?"

"No." Alfons' footsteps retreated from the door, back toward the tree's corner.

Ed sat up, frowning at the younger boy's clipped tone. "Hey, Al." The name slipped out easily but he didn't notice. Ed crossed the room, jerking his door open and poking his head out. "Al, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he answered, his back rigid as he faced deliberately away from Edward. The pack of tinsel was in his hand, but he wasn't using it.

"C'mon, Al, you can talk to me." Ed knew whenever his little brother was that brusque, that aloof, something was eating at him. It took a wrenching effort for Ed to remind himself that it wasn't his little brother's back he was watching, not his little brother's shoulders that were starting to shake.

"What's wrong?" Ed asked again, far more gently than before. He took one hesitant step forward, then another.

Heiderich abruptly wiped a sleeve across his face. " 's nothing," he muttered, voice low. "I just miss my family, is all."

"Oh. Where are they?"

Still not turning around, Alfons heaved a sigh and stared at his hands. "My mom's dead. I miss her the most. My dad joined the army and I haven't heard from him since the Great War..."

Ed supposed he should have seen this coming, knowing the similarities between Amestris and this world, but it didn't make him feel any better to have his theories confirmed.

"I know how that feels," he said at last, placing his flesh hand on Alfons' right shoulder. "And I know that it hurts. But — there's no reason to be sad."

Blue eyes turned to face him and Ed dropped his gaze. Somehow this was so much easier when he imagined those eyes as a dark gold instead.

"Everything is a circle. Life and death — they're both part of it. For something new to be born, something old must be lost. When... when your mother died, she became part of the cycle. There's part of her in the air we breathe, the ground underfoot, and most of all in you, her son." His hand tightened slightly, comfortingly. "She's always here with you, even if it's not apparent. Everyone you love — they're all a part of your heart."

Alfons blinked rapidly. "I guess I never really thought of it that way." A hand crept up to clench in the white fabric of his shirt, just over his heart. "Thank you, Edward."

"And thank _you_, Al..."

"What for?"

Ed smiled enigmatically. "For just being yourself."

"Does this mean you'll stop calling me Heiderich now?"

"No promises, He- Alfons."

Usually Ed dreamed about home. It was as if his mind was in denial, telling him that the only world that mattered was the one he'd been born into. For the past six months, Ed had believed that wholeheartedly.

The people here were just shadows of who they were supposed to be.

The world here, recovering from one war and perched perilously on the brink of another, was just the backdrop of a stage.

Events here, actions and reactions, nothing truly mattered. Only home mattered.

But now — Alfons was a real person, with real emotions and memories and unobtainable desires. He _did_ matter. Ed _did_ care about him. And not because he looked like Al and was the closest thing to a brother Ed would ever have this side of the Gate.

For the first time, Edward cared about him as an individual.

_Christmas is about the people who matter to you._

The exiled alchemist stared up at the ceiling in his darkened bedroom. As the last chimes of midnight rolled away from every church within earshot, a genuine smile crossed his lips for the first time in many months.

"Merry Christmas, Alphonse. Merry Christmas, Heiderich. I hope you both have good dreams."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Just a little something I jotted down on Christmas Eve while waiting for Santa (not really). It turned out a little less merry than I'd intended, but I hope it stays fairly true to the characters this way.

Have a wonderful holiday season! Thank you so much for your support — and for reading this fic!


End file.
